


Night Moves

by Karasuno Volleygays (ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Blind Date, Blow Jobs, Filmmaker Ennoshita, Hook-Up, M/M, University Student Futakuchi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-23
Updated: 2015-07-23
Packaged: 2018-04-10 21:03:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4407563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor/pseuds/Karasuno%20Volleygays
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chikara is willing to put up with being set up on a blind date — until said date stands him up!</p>
<p>However, a brazen and admittedly attractive waiter keeps him company after his shift and Chikara may or may not forget that he was there to meet someone else entirely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night Moves

**Author's Note:**

> This was an anon prompt for the Things You Said meme: Things you said while you were drunk.

_Well, this is a waste of time._

Chikara checks his watch for the third time in — let’s see . . . fifteen minutes. His ‘date’ is officially forty-three minutes late, and epic disaster not withstanding, he’s pretty sure he’s been stood up by a stranger.

He’s going to throttle the next person who suggests a blind date. Hands. Throat. Crushing of windpipe. Fingers digging into —

“Hey, gorgeous.”

Imaginary fingers halt mid-vice, and the rest of Chikara jolts back to reality as his head whips up to see who is talking to him. “Excuse me?” he asks, as Chikara has no idea who this guy is or why he’s talking to him.

Almost ten centimeters taller than Chikara, with purposely tousled hair and a know-it-all smirk, he can’t think of a word to describe this newcomer besides _stunning_. Perfectly defined features, an aura of confidence, and some bizarre magnetism that he can’t put a finger on but can definitely feel.

His mouth is hanging open, he knows it is, so with a deep breath, he snaps his jaw up and fixes this stranger with the most nonchalant expression he can muster. “Were you talking to me?”

The stranger flips the chair opposite Chikara around and sits in it backwards before extending an outstretched hand. “You know it. Name’s Futakuchi Kenji.”

Not sure what else to do, Chikara hesitantly shakes the proffered hand. “Ennoshita.”

“You mean like the film guy?” Kenji’s face morphs almost instantly from smug to genuine curiosity, and the filmmaker in Chikara hates himself for coveting that quality for his newest set of actors who are giving him fits.

Not sure how Kenji knows about his handful of independent films, but he does and Chikara can’t help but enjoy the little puff of self-esteem it gives him. “Yeah, that’s me. Nothing much, but it’s work and I love it.”

Kenji shakes his head. “Man, don’t say stuff like that. I’d throw a virgin in a volcano to have my stuff get that kind of attention at Cannes.”

“You know about that?” Chikara is genuinely surprised. Everyone knows what the Cannes Film Festival is about, but no one ever actually knows any of the work shown there. Or that two of Chikara’s films had good reviews from two prominent critics. “Are you in the industry, then?”

With a shrug, Kenji snorts. “I wish. I’m a music major, so yeah . . . you can imagine how many dream jobs there are out there for college guys. Hence the snazzy garb.” He gestures to his clothes, which Chikara notices for the first time as the restaurant’s server attire.

Chikara’s eyes narrow. “Shouldn’t you be, um, working instead of hitting on customers?”

Kenji makes a flippant gesture. “I’m off for the night, and you haven’t bought anything but wine, anyway.”

Wine he hasn’t actually touched, Chikara thinks as he looks at this buoyant and strangely earnest waiter. “Well, if you’re off, maybe you can help me finish it because my date seems to have forgotten me.”

“Rude!” Kenji exclaims as he flips his chair the right way and leans across the table. “What kind of girl could possibly turn down a guy like you? I mean . . . I wouldn’t.”

Brushing aside the fleeting mental picture of Kenji as a girl, Chikara sighs. “My date was actually a guy. And a blind date, to boot.”

“Duuuuude.” Kenji shakes his head. “This is the best day ever.” He pops the cork off the wine bottle and pours two glasses. “Since you’re my type, and I’m everybody’s type, we should totally hook up.”

Chikara’s cheeks burn with embarrassment. It doesn’t matter that the entire purpose of Hisashi arranging his date had been for him to get laid for a change; being so baldly propositioned like this is too much for him to take.

“Does your boss know you hit on customers?” Chikara chides as he drinks his wine a little too fast.

Kenji takes a sip and exhales appreciatively. “You have excellent taste in wine, Ennoshita-san.” He tosses a sideways glance at Chikara. “Do I really have to call you that? It sounds so stuffy, and someone like you who thrives on provocative imagery can’t be stuffy. I’m pretty sure there’s a law against it.”

Chikara has to bulge his cheeks like a squirrel to keep from spitting out his wine. “Ha!” he finally squeaks after the liquid sees fit to trickle back down his throat. “I guess not.”

“Good. Thank you, Chikara.”

The sound of his given name on Kenji’s irreverent lips crackles in Chikara’s ears, and for the first time since the words came from his surprise companion, the idea of hooking up isn’t entirely unappealing. Not that it had been, but definitely out of the question.

“Then I’ll call you Kenji.”

Kenji’s grin is wide and devious, and it makes Chikara shiver as a sliver of pink tongue darts out to skim the rim of the glass. Chikara can’t help but guzzle the rest of his wine and most of the refill that Kenji solicitously pours.

At Chikara’s voracious consumption of his drink, Kenji raises a brow. “You didn’t drive here, did you?”

Feeling warm and infinitely braver as a small tide of alcohol powers through his veins, Chikara chuckles. “I’m not an idiot. I took a cab.”

“Good.” Kenji reaches across the table and pulls Chikara closer to him by the knot of his tie. “I don’t do idiots,” he murmurs before brushing his mouth lightly against Chikara’s.

Kenji tastes like wine and peppermint, which would be nauseating under different circumstances, but the subtle _plunk_ of Chikara’s bottom lip between Kenji’s teeth makes a lot of the things that have been floating around in his head about this odd encounter feel hazy and irrelevant. He’s slightly drunk, and the idea of shaking off Kenji’s advances feels more and more like a terrible waste every second he considers it.

“God, I want you,” Chikara admits out loud, and Kenji’s subsequent Cheshire cat-like grin takes his breath away. His hands can’t shoot into his pocket fast enough to take out his wallet, but Kenji beats him to it by dropping a ¥5000 note on the table.

Kenji’s hand wraps around his wrist and drags him to his feet. The room spins a little, but Chikara doesn’t mind because Kenji is doing all the thinking for him as they navigate their way out the exit and stop at the curb to hail a taxi.

As a cab skids to a halt in front of him, Kenji leans in to whisper into Chikara’s ear, “Yours or mine?”

Chikara’s foggy brain recalls that he is woefully bereft of the necessities for what he wants to do, so he says, “Yours.”

“Slumming it, eh?” Kenji teases as he helps Chikara into the backseat and gives the address to the driver. “My place is only a short ways away. I actually walked here.”

With an appreciative chuckle, Chikara wraps a hand around Kenji’s muscular thigh. “You must walk a lot, because your legs are hot.”

He can’t believe that just came out of his mouth, but the damage is done. However, he can’t find it in himself to regret it when Kenji’s cheeks redden. “So, you are capable of shame. I would not have thought.”

“I just can’t believe you’re the same guy drowning himself in solitude just a half hour ago.” With something that heavily resembles a purr, Kenji hefts Chikara onto his lap. “How am I this lucky?”

Chikara pops open the top three buttons of Kenji’s shirtsleeves and attacks the throbbing pulse underneath with his mouth. “I don’t know,” he pants against Kenji’s achingly hot flesh. “You probably don’t deserve it.”

Kenji’s head lolls back as he groans in reply. The sound reverberates into Chikara’s mouth, and any thoughts he might have entertained of not allowing himself to get hard in public are summarily dashed.

Chikara isn’t the only one aware of it. “Oh, hello,” Kenji says as his palm grinds into Chikara’s erection. The sound that tears out of Chikara’s throat is barely human and completely involuntary. He is only vaguely aware of the driver’s irritated muttering and the sound of the rear view mirror being adjusted, but he’s in far too good a mood to regret it. “Sorry,” he calls over his shoulder, and Kenji laughs.

They arrive quickly at a sprawling apartment complex, and this time, Chikara manages to grossly overpay the cabbie after they both stumble out of the car. By divine providence, Kenji’s unit is on the ground floor, so it’s only a matter of seconds before they spill through the door and attack each other’s clothes.

Kenji’s silver waistcoat is the first thing to go, followed by Chikara’s suit jacket. Then belts and buttons everything else between drop to the floor one by one as their mouths ravage each patch of newly exposed skin.

 They’re both in just their underwear by the time Kenji, out of breath, manages to ask, “Do you top or bottom?”

Usually, Chikara has no real preference, but at the moment, the idea of Kenji’s cock pounding into him is too alluring to deny. “Bottom is nice,” he replies breathily.

A growl emanates from Kenji as he hisses, “I knew you were perfect.”

With that, he picks up Chikara by the bottom and propels them into the small bedroom. There is neither time nor inclination to take in the scenery as Chikara’s senses are inundated by the smell of the wax burner Kenji flicks on. It smells like strawberries, and the sweet scent is almost as intoxicating as the wine.

The faint light of the wax pot casts an almost ethereal glow over Kenji’s skin, and if Chikara believed in angels, he thinks he might have actually found one. “God you are so hot,” he says as he pushes Kenji over and onto his back before tugging off his boxer briefs before shedding his own.

Even though it’s been a while, Chikara takes Kenji’s hot length into his mouth in one fell swoop, earning him a strangled cry from his partner. Smiling as much as he can with his mouth occupied, Chikara lets his gaze slide up Kenji’s magnificent torso before locking on to sparkling brown eyes. Eyes that widen at Chikara’s brazenness.

Kenji’s shaking hand desperately swats at the night stand before it falls onto the drawer handle. He produces a bottle of lube and a whole strand of condoms.

Releasing Kenji’s cock with a _pop_ of his lips, Chikara teases, “You really think we’ll need all those?”

“I really hope so,” Kenji answers as he tosses their supplies on the other side of the bed, hooks his hands under Chikara’s knees, and drags him upwards until their mouths can meet again. There’s a flick of a cap, and soon, cool fingers glance over Chikara’s entrance. In reply, Chikara rolls his hips and drinks in Kenji’s cry of pleasure.

Kenji’s long, tapered fingers stretch Chikara until he can’t stand to wait anymore. He impatiently swipes the bottle of lube and a condom. After tearing open the foil packet with his teeth, he unfurls the condom over Kenji’s already leaking cock before slathering a generous portion of lube over it for good measure.

Kenji is watching him with wide eyes as he positions himself. There’s an intense burn as Chikara stretches around Kenji, but he takes his time as he slowly sinks down, millimeter by molten millimeter. When the utter fullness takes Chikara’s breath away, he tilts his head back and rasps at the ceiling, “Fuck.”

He’s surprised when Kenji flips them over in one swift motion, their bodies still achingly connected. The weight of Kenji’s chest on his makes Chikara thrust his fingers into Kenji’s rich locks and yank their mouths together for a searing kiss.

Soon, they begin to move, and Chikara doesn’t know or care how Kenji has gained the knowledge of how to drive him insane, but he does. Lewd sounds Chikara doesn’t even recognize as his own bounce off the ceiling as Kenji’s cock finds that special spot over and over again until Chikara is a panting mess sprawled out on the bed. A lubricated hand vigorously pumps his own member, and the overload of sensation brings Chikara quickly to the edge. He can’t even find the words to warn Kenji before he spills out his release between them.

Chikara wheezes for air through the rest of his orgasm as Kenji furiously chases his own. It only takes a minute before a gasping, sweating Kenji collapses on top of Chikara, heedless of the mess, and moans, “Chikara,” like a plea.

As Kenji’s spent cock slides out of him, Chikara feels a sense of loss, but also fulfilment as he burrows his fingers into Kenji’s hair and replies, “Best. Blind date. Ever.”

 

When Chikara wakes up to the sun blaring indecently into the room, he rolls over to check his alarm clock for the time only to realize that he isn’t in his own apartment. Things clear themselves up piece by piece as he recalls the restaurant and the wine and the sex. Oh, _god_ , the sex.

“Kenji?” Chikara calls as he realizes he is alone.

When his eyes adjust to the glare of dawn, Chikara looks around the room and finds a note on the pillow next to him.

_Early classes today. Sorry I couldn’t be there, but I made breakfast. It’s in the fridge._

_XOXO_

_Kenji ♥_

Underneath, a phone number is neatly written, and Chikara automatically seeks out his discarded trousers, picks his phone out of the pocket, and punches in the new contact. He doesn’t know if he can do the casual sex thing for too long, but he wouldn’t mind a bit of verbal sparring with someone as quick-witted and saucy as Kenji again. Maybe they could be more than a hook-up, and Chikara thinks he wouldn’t mind that at all.

Later that day, Chikara ambles onto the set of the film due to start shooting in a week, and he finds Kinoshita Hisashi wielding a nail gun and looking way too happy about it as he tacks together a fake village for the film’s antagonist monster to stomp and destroy.

“Well, look who’s here!” Hisashi crows as he fires way too many nails into one seam of a knee-high ‘skyscraper.’ “I didn’t expect to see you today.”

The smugness in Hisashi’s tone makes Chikara want to smack his longtime friend and set designer in the back of the head. “Like you would know. The guy you set me up with didn’t even show.”

Hisashi’s brow wrinkles, and his head tilts to the side. “Really? ‘Cause he texted me this morning and told me I was an angel for arranging the whole thing.”

Chikara scoffs. “I waited at the restaurant for almost an hour! I, um, actually hooked up with one of the waiters who was going off shift. Ridiculous flirt, but way too hot and knows it.”

At this, Hisashi’s eyes narrow. “What was his name?”

“Futakuchi Kenji,” Chikara replies slowly, not sure what is happening at the moment. His head still hurts, and he blames that for the bafflement he feels as he observes Hisashi’s dawning comprehension.

When Hisashi laughs, Chikara wants to shoot him with his own nail gun. “What?”

“Oh, my god, I didn’t think he’d actually do it, but he did!”

Not wanting to be nailed himself, Chikara follows the wire of Hisashi’s nail gun and unplugs it before wrenching it out of his friend’s hand. “You’d better start talking.”

“I told him you’d probably be all weird because the date wasn’t your idea, so he told me he’d think of something. He seemed really into you when I told him what you were like, so I hoped you’d both make the best of it.” His eyes rake over Chikara’s rumpled state, his clothes fresh from the floor of Kenji’s apartment. “Looks like you did all right.”

Chikara’s fist shot out of its own accord and socked Hisashi in the shoulder. “You are such an ass.”

“Speaking of . . .” Hisashi chuckled behind his hand. “You can have the nice chair in the editing trailer. You probably need it.”

_I’m going to kill him_ , Chikara thinks. _Advil first, then kill. But I will kill him_.

However, Chikara’s murder plans are derailed by the chime of an incoming text. Kenji’s name pops up on the screen, and Chikara takes a moment to remember that Hisashi had probably already given Kenji his contact information. Curious, he opens the message.

_Hey, I hope you slept okay and enjoyed breakfast. I’m not the greatest cook, but it looks like you ate it all, so it probably wasn’t too terrible or poisonous. By the way, I can’t wait to see you again._

The next message is a selfie of Kenji giving a thumbs-up in front of the refrigerator in his apartment, and Chikara couldn’t stop himself from laughing if he wanted to.

He ignores Hisashi’s victory whoop as he keys in a reply:

_Next time, though, can we actually eat dinner?_

Kenji’s reply is fast-but-not-too-fast, and Chikara opens it hungrily.

_Anything you want, Gorgeous._

When he returns to his own apartment for the night, exhausted after toiling over set design all day, Chikara can’t help but turn over the events of the previous night. He knows now that he means what he had said. It really was the best blind date ever.

The thought makes him smile as he sets Kenji’s absurd selfie as his contact picture and hits the call button, answering the greeting with a teasing, “Hey, yourself.”

They talk for over an hour before Chikara’s yawns become more and more pronounced, and he hums in contentment as he turns over Kenji’s, “Goodnight, Chika,” in his head as he drifts off to sleep with a smile.

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably bad. I would like to apologize to Isy, because she kind of invented this ship and I'm pretty sure I just . . . yeah. Woops.


End file.
